Countdown to Christmas
by SarahSwan7
Summary: The Spooks from Series 5 and some festive silliness.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, what a joyous occasion it was when I would arrive at work and see my colleagues at their desks, hard at work, rather than organising a bloody advent raffle."

Harry's dry voice was of course not to be taken seriously, and he too joined the huddle of workers around the gloriously colourful Advent calendar that someone had pinned to the wall.

"You can pick the name if you want, Scrooge- I mean Harry," said Adam cheekily. Harry rolled his eyes, selecting a slip of paper from the Santa hat and unfolding it slowly.

"Mr Zafar Younis is the first lucky winner. Congratulations, et cetera, and now on with your work." Harry paced away, but he wasn't really annoyed. Seeing his colleagues together and happy was a rarity, and one he didn't take for granted.

At the announcement of his success, Zaf leapt from his chair and strode towards the calendar. A lovely little chocolate would definitely put him in a good mood – winter was not his favourite time of year. He peeled back the tiny door and-

"That's it?!" Zaf's tone was incredulous. "Where's the chocolate?" He spun round accusatively.

"It's a traditional picture advent calendar, the sort they had before novelty chocolate and sweet calendars were produced," explained Ruth.

"So all I get is a picture of a bloody shepherd. Merry Christmas to you all." Zaf slumped back in his seat in a sulk.

"Actually, it's to celebrate Advent, not Christm-" Ruth started, but Zaf shot her a look. He cared for the chocolate, not for the culture. Adam was smirking, clearly amused by Zaf's irritation. Jo caught on immediately.

"I think that's a wise man actually," she said, leaning closer to study the tiny picture.

"Alright, alright!" Zaf exhaled loudly and raised his hands in surrender, breaking into a smile.

Christmas had descended upon Thames House in all its glory. The building, usually sleek and professional, was decked with tinsel and lights, with a magnificent tree in the main entrance. A couple of Christmas stickers had been stuck on some of the computer monitors, much to Malcolm's horror - he would be spending the New Year scraping them off and wincing at any potential scratches. Zaf's campaign for compulsory Christmas hat wearing was yet to be taken into account: he figured it was just a matter of time.

Work was still hectic and serious, but amongst the government conspiracies, terror attacks and arduous hours lay a warm and comforting atmosphere. Even Ros' cold exterior seemed to melt away a little - she even offered a smile, on some rare occasions.

Adam, however, seemed to be laboured with the biggest burden. It was his year to organise the Secret Santa, and he hadn't quite found the time to sort it yet. He needed a little helper.

"Jo, a word in the meeting room?" Jo nodded at Adam's request, tucking a section of hair behind her ear and carrying an armful of files with her. She assumed that Adam wanted her report about the latest operation.

"I want to know that what I'm about to ask of you won't go beyond these four walls," Adam said seriously, looking intensely at his colleague, waiting for her reaction.

"Of course, Adam," she said, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Are you okay?"

Adam took a seat wearily, thoroughly enjoying the facade. "To be honest Jo..." He tailed off, rubbing a hand across his face. Jo moved to him instinctively, touching his arm in what she hoped to be a comfort to him.

"Adam?" she said tentatively. He raised his head slowly, turning his gaze to her, and spoke:

"I need your help with the Secret Santa," he said, deadly serious. Then he broke into a grin.

"You bastard."

...

"What are your plans for Christmas then, Harry?" Ruth asked hesitantly. She hoped that finally, this year, she would be able to pluck up the courage to ask him round for a mince pie and glass of mulled wine. However, as usual, she panicked, continuing to talk hurriedly. "Because, traditionally, friends would gather and... erm, celebrate-"

"Ruth," Harry said gently. She met his gaze.

"Would you like to meet up for a drink sometime?"

She nodded and smiled. "That's what I was trying to get at." Ruth laughed, embarrassed, but Harry found it endearing.

"I thought I'd help you out. A drink... sounds wonderful," he smiled.

...

**A/N: Happy 1****st**** of December everyone! I stand undecided as to whether I will post this in its entirety as it is just some festive silliness, but please leave a review if you enjoyed it!**


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you want for Christmas then?" Jo dangled her legs off her desk, chewing thoughtfully on a pasta salad.

"Oh, off the top of my head, the-"

"And something other than the new Nissan Skyline," Jo cut him off. Zaf rolled his eyes, adjusting his Santa hat and putting his feet up on the desk. "I thought we were doing Secret Santa?" he mused.

Jo nodded nonchalantly. "Oh yes, that's right." She was all too aware, having finalised the list last night with Adam over a glass or two of mulled wine.

Zaf wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm still expecting a present, seeing as we're flatmates."

"Only if you've been good this year, which I'm not convinced you have been. It was your turn to do the washing up last night." Jo walked away before Zaf could protest.

...

"Ros!" Adam ran down the corridor to catch up with her fast, slender form. "Are you getting something for Harry for Christmas?"

"Oh, I couldn't possibly say," she said smoothly.

"And why not?" asked Adam.

"Because you could be a mole, reporting back my every word, telling Harry my present ideas," Ros said seriously, never breaking eye contact. Then a small smirk appeared on her features.

"For the record, I'm not getting him anything. I don't believe in all this Christmas commercialism nonsense."

"Well, you'd better change your ideology as you'll receive your Secret Santa this afternoon," Adam informed her.

Ros heaved a sigh. "I'd forgotten about that. Is a satsuma a suitable gift to give?" She swept away with a demure smile.

...

The list had been given out:

Harry – buying for Adam  
>Ruth – buying for Jo<p>

Adam – buying for Malcolm  
>Ros – buying for Zaf<br>Zaf – buying for Harry

Jo – buying for Ros

Malcolm – buying for Ruth

"For goodness sake, Zaf, I'm not telling you!" Jo slapped down some files on her desk and tried to bat Zaf away.

"It is you, isn't it? What are you getting me? It better be good," he pestered at her shoulder. She was about to shoo him away when an idea fell upon her. She turned round slowly, a sly smile twisting her lips.

"I'm going to get you something very good," she said, reaching out and brushing his jaw with her fingertips. Zaf raised his eyebrows, thrilled with the situation he was finding himself in.

"And, what might that be?" he asked seductively, leaning closer.

Jo's expression turned to one of seriousness as she dropped her hand from his face abruptly.

"Nothing." She walked away, smiling at Zaf's exasperated expression in the reflection of the pods.

...

"Ros, I know it's supposed to be secret, but erm, I don't know what for buy for my Secret Santa," confessed Ruth worriedly. Ros turned to face her.

"You haven't been undercover much, have you, Ruth?" Ros said cynically, before smiling with a hint of reassurance. "Only joking; I hate secrets too. I've got Zaf, the devil to buy for – who have you got?"

"Jo," said Ruth. "I'm not really sure what direction to go in; she's considerably younger than us-" Ros raised an eyebrow at this- "perhaps you have an idea?"

"Perfume, jewellery, chocolate." Ros reeled off the regular present options. "Maybe a scarf?"

Ruth nodded, evaluating her options carefully. "Hmm yes, a scarf. Well, it's practical, and apparently rather stylish... but I don't know if it something she really needs... and the colour would be quite tricky to choose-"

"Ruth," Ros cut her off. "Anything will be fine. I know you're an analyst, but really, this doesn't need so much thought." Ruth smiled tentatively, feeling a bit easier in Ros' presence. "Thank you."

...

It was only the 6th day of December and Adam had found himself in luck. Firstly, he had won the advent raffle, revealing a thrilling picture of a donkey amongst some straw. And he had managed to find a great gift for Malcolm – a sleek, simple storage box with different compartments, perfect for storing wires and odd pieces for inventions.

Malcolm, however, was having difficulty. He had no idea what sort of present a woman would like to receive, let alone someone like Ruth. She was rather bumbling in a sweet sort of way but with sophisticated tastes. Malcolm pondered whilst twiddling a pen, staring idly at one of the screens.

Harry watched his workers, eyeing Adam curiously from his office. He had worked with the man for a while now, but that did not qualify as experience enough for buying a good present that he would appreciate. He was very... debonair. Harry cringed, trying to find a different word to describe his colleague that sounded a little less admiring.

Zaf didn't even glance up from his desk. Harry was old: there were endless possibilities for a present. A nice cosy hat, a tub of Horlicks, some comfortable slippers - Zaf had, however, ruled out the retirement home brochure as a bit too tongue in cheek.

Ros looked over at Zaf. An annual subscription to Top Gear magazine was the only idea she had conjured up, and yet she suspected he was already signed up for a lifetime supply. Cologne, a smart jacket or jumper, and other suitably male gifts didn't seem to be particularly fitting of Zaf's impish charms. Perhaps it would encourage him to grow up though, she thought scathingly, watching him flick a ball of paper at the back of Jo's head. Ros clicked her pen and got back to work.

Jo spun round and shot an un-amused look at Zaf, slyly glancing over at Ros as she did so. Ros was probably the person who shared the least about her personality, and she seemed to dislike most things rather than a wide range of likes that would make gift buying simple. She was quite... classy, Jo mused, but still: perhaps a more light-hearted gift would encourage a different side to her. Jo stood up and headed to the archives.

Ruth smiled as Jo walked past her desk, secretly scanning her clothing and jewellery. She seemed to frequently wear blue, so perhaps a scarf in that colour? Ruth shook her head. It was official: Christmas was driving her crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

By the tenth of the month, it seemed that the warm atmosphere had dipped. Zaf's devious imagination would soon remedy this, however, and he was excited to see how his next plan would play out.

"Zaf, have you got a pen?" Ruth asked in a whisper.

"Nope, sorry," he replied casually, even though he had stashed every single pen in the office in his top desk drawer.

"I'll have to ask Harry; there don't seem to be any anywhere," she said thoughtfully, turning to walk to his office. Zaf smiled, watching through the glass of Harry's office. He handed Ruth a pen with a smile. So far so good.

Zaf watched with further amusement as Harry attempted to make a phone call, but in vain. His line seemed to be disconnected. He left his office to ask to borrow one.

"Mine's down too," said Adam.

"Ruth?" Harry asked, heading over to her desk. They were just out of earshot, but Zaf could see them talking and laughing a little.

The final and best stage of his plan was to happen during the lunch hour, and Zaf could hardly stand the wait.

...

"More decorations," Malcolm mumbled, a hefty box of Christmas goods in his arms. He proceeded to pin up more tinsel around his work station and the office in general before weaving extra fairy lights around the extensive IT equipment.

"It seems this new operation has made everyone turn a bit 'Bah Humbug', so I have put it upon myself to spread some festive cheer," explained Malcolm as Ros untangled her heel from a cable.

"Does that involve baking mince pies and bringing them to work?" Zaf asked inquisitively, peering over some boxes.

"It certainly could," replied Malcolm.

"Along with-

"No compulsory bloody hat wearing," snapped Ros. Zaf clutched a hand to his heart and pulled a sad face.

"With that attitude, Ms Myers, don't expect a smooch under the mistletoe from me," he said. It was Ros' turn to act distressed.

"Well, wouldn't that be a loss," she quipped.

...

"Bloody post-it notes," Ruth cursed, searching her desk for a wad she was sure she'd had just moments ago. Zaf walked past casually.

"What's wrong, Ruth?" he asked.

"Can't find any post-it notes," she explained, flustered.

"There'll be loads in the storage cupboard," he assured her, heading back to his desk, flicking the post-its he had picked off her desk between his hands. Ruth rose and headed to the cramped cupboard.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry apologetically. "I was just trying to find some post-it notes."

"Me too," said Ruth. "I'll help you look." She shut the door carefully and rummaged amongst the shelves.

A mildly uncomfortable silence filled the small room, which Ruth desperately tried to fill.

"So, who have you got for Secret Santa? I mean, I know we're not supposed to tell, because it's secret, but..." she trailed off helplessly, cursing inwardly at her feeble attempts at conversation.

"I hate the bloody thing," Harry admitted. "I've got Adam, and no ideas. You?"

"Jo," Ruth confessed. "I was thinking of a scarf.

"A scarf sounds good," said Harry. They carried on searching.

"Got some!" said Ruth triumphantly, splitting the wedge of notes in half and handing one to Harry who reached for the door handle, twisting it in vain. He rattled the door a little more forcefully.

"It's locked," said Ruth, slightly panicked. Harry thumped a fist on the door.

"Hello? Anyone there?" he called.

"It's the lunch break; everyone will be in the canteen," Ruth said worriedly, checking her watch. "They won't be back for another hour." 

...

After locking the cupboard door Zaf had beat a hasty retreat to the canteen, where he couldn't resist divulging his plan to Adam, who cracked up.

"Genius," said Adam, laughing as he tucked into a bowl of soup.

"Do you think over the holidays they might make it official?" asked Zaf.

"Are you kidding? I mean, obviously they both know they should be together, but I think Harry's afraid of his pride getting dented from a relationship rebuff," replied Adam, dipping a hunk of bread in the broth.

"What about Ruth?" Zaf ground pepper onto his pasta dish.

"Way too shy. She's liked him for ages and never been able to string a sentence together about them."

"I may have just solved their relationship woes," said Zaf thoughtfully, chomping some pasta and pondering his own love life. At present, it was pretty much non-existent.

"What about you, mate?" Adam asked, as if reading his mind. "Got your eye on anyone?" Zaf was surprised when Jo's name sprung to mind.

"Nope," Zaf replied nonchalantly, although Adam sensed his lie.

"Catch her under some mistletoe," ordered Adam. "She won't be able to resist." He rose to leave. "Shall I unlock the cupboard yet?"

Zaf shook his head. "I'll do it. They'll be less likely to suspect me if I'm the one who comes to the rescue."

...

"This has Zaf written all over it," said Ruth. "He's been acting even more craftily than usual recently."

Harry agreed. "That stunt with my phone, and all the pens going missing? Mr Younis certainly has been planning this."  
>"Planning what?" asked Ruth, the truth suddenly dawning on her. She blushed a deep shade of crimson.<p>

"Well, seeing as there's no-one watching..." Harry leant down and kissed Ruth gently. When he broke away she was smiling.

"I'd never thought you'd do that," she admitted, still unable to look at him directly.

Harry laughed. "I've wanted to since we met." At this she met his gaze.

And then crashed back to Earth with the door jolting open.

"What's going on? Were you locked in?" asked Zaf in his best innocent tone.

"Yes we were, Zafar," said Harry smoothly. "I was wondering if you knew anything about it, along with all the stationary that seemed to have been going walkabouts recently?"

Zaf tried to bite back a smile. "Can't say that I know what you're talking about. Maybe Adam knows?" he tried in response, but Harry wasn't playing. He gave Zaf his best glare, but couldn't hold it for long, instead offering his hand for a shake.

"Well played, Mr Younis, well played," said Harry. Zaf, dazed, shook his hand, watching Harry walk past as if nothing had happened.

Ruth coughed awkwardly. "Zaf," she nodded, walking briskly past him back to her desk.

...

**A/N: This may be my favourite one! Thank you for all of your lovely reviews :) **


	4. Chapter 4

It was the 14th of December. Zaf had whooped triumphantly when he was drawn again from the advent raffle, opening the tiny paper door with little interest, instead rewarding himself with a couple of chocolate biscuits hidden in his desk drawer. Malcolm's makeover was complete and colourful decorations glowed from every angle of the Grid. And rumour had it that on Saturday night Ruth and Harry had got together for dinner. The Christmas spirit was truly influencing everyone.

"The big day is nearing, Portman, and yet I haven't seen any Amazon packages in the post," Zaf commented.

"Maybe I didn't buy your present online," suggested Jo innocently, but secretly she was worried. She still hadn't thought of a present to get for him. Jo wanted to buy something meaningful, but nothing that showed too obviously that she was into him. Work was the most important thing, and she wouldn't jeopardise it for a relationship, especially as the other person probably doesn't even feel the same way.

Little did Jo know that behind the cheeky facade was a guy who genuinely cared for her. Zaf spun round on his swivel chair, smiling when he thought of Jo's reaction when he handed her a pair of dainty gold earrings. They had cost him a bomb, but he couldn't resist.

Ros, on the other hand, was far from the relationship spectrum. Of course, there had been the odd male in the past that she toyed with the idea of having a relationship with, but she knew it wouldn't work. She pretended she couldn't care less, but under the bulletproof skin Ros had genuine feelings - but she wouldn't let them show to anyone. In this business, who could you trust?

Evidently not Ruth; she had told Harry that Ros had Zaf for Secret Santa. Well, this was what she could assume, as Harry had said, 'Bottle of champagne; it'll be gone by the New Year, but he'll appreciate it' whilst passing her desk this morning, referencing the fateful gathering which revealed Zaf's tendency to get ridiculously drunk. To be fair, the party had been the stereotypically awkward and awful gathering put on by HR each year despite how obvious it was that everyone despised the whole charade. A measly Christmas dinner was served, an old album of cheesy carols blared loudly and when people actually started getting up to dance, Zaf had decided that enough was enough. It was Ros' first Christmas party at Thames House and she hardly knew him, but found a smudge of respect and amazement beginning to grow as she watched him efficiently down a bottle of cheap champagne and subsequently become too sloshed to sit sensibly until the evening was over. After standing on his chair for his fourth enthusiastic rendition of 'Jingle Bells', Harry shoved Zaf into a taxi. He probably woke up with the mother of all hangovers, but at least he got to leave early.

This year, Adam had decided that enough was enough. The entire team was going to his house for a less awkward gathering, where they wouldn't have to eat dry mince pies with the odd chap from the Foreign Office or be forced into singing 'Silent Night' whilst the overly-enthusiastic elderly lady from Reception brutally assaulted the piano keys with arthritic fingers. Ros suppressed a shudder at the memory and called Jo over to her desk.

"I don't know what to get Zaf," Ros admitted in a whisper.

"Me neither," confessed Jo. "I was gonna get him a present, just because we're flatmates, you know..." she tried to explain. Ros nodded, although she knew what was going on.

"I thought maybe a new jacket; he's quite into his clothes," continued Jo.

"Good idea. Maybe I could get him..." Ros tailed off, shaking her head. "I think just a massive box of chocolates will have to do." She had officially given up.

"That's a great idea, actually." Jo surprised Ros with her remark. "He's always snaffling the food from our flat," Jo explained further.

Ros laughed a tad sardonically. "Chocolates it is."

...

Once again, Harry tried to focus on work, tried to force himself to ring Juliet (with the phone that he had made Zaf reconnect), but he couldn't bring himself to. She was always particularly short-tempered at this time of year – it seemed that she was allergic to any form of festive fun.

Harry was grateful for a knock at the door. "Come in, Malcolm. Is there a problem?"

"Well, yes," admitted Malcolm. "I'm having some... trouble, with the Secret Santa."

"Hells bells, this is driving me crazy," muttered Harry. "Don't worry: you're not the only person who's struggling. Who do you have?"

"Ruth," replied Malcolm. Harry felt a fleeting surge of jealousy. He had seen a beautiful necklace that he knew she'd love, but had to resist the urge to buy it. For a second Harry pondered giving Malcolm his suggestion, but knew that he wanted to give it to her himself, see the smile on her face.

"Perhaps some... earrings?" Harry suggested. Yes, Ruth did like jewellery.

Malcolm looked surprised. "I didn't know she was really into jewellery."

"Oh yes, she'd love them," reassured Harry.

Malcolm left the office, his mind finally put at rest from Christmas' stress.

...

"Adam, you know Ros quite well..." Jo had cornered him during lunch. "Look, I know it's supposed to be a _Secret_ Santa, but I have no idea what to get her."

"I hope your secret keeping abilities will drastically improve in the New Year," Adam commented with a roll of his eyes.

"Come on, you knew anyway – we both drew up the list," she argued.

Adam held up his hands. "Okay, okay. Well, she's into shoes. That's all I can say really. High heeled shoes are the way to go."

"What size is she?"

"Seven," said Adam.

"Okay... shoes." Jo knew just the place and would go there after work. Secret Santa sorted.

...

Turns out, buying for Harry might not be as simple as Zaf first thought.

He had been told by Adam that his plans for typically old person presents, although amusing, wouldn't be well received. Zaf sighed. Back to square one.

Harry liked whiskey. After difficult operations they often met at bars and talked stuff through – Harry was a great boss like that. Adam was right: Zaf needed to get him something more thoughtful. A bottle of aged whiskey from Scotland seemed like a perfect fit, though. Harry was something of a whiskey connoisseur and Zaf knew he would appreciate it. Sorted.

...

Harry dodged some boring office work by heading down to the archives, passing Adam on the way. Damn it – he still hadn't thought of a bloody Secret Santa gift for him.

"Shouldn't you be meeting with your asset?" he called, realising that the officer wasn't where he should be.

Adam spun around. "What time is it now?"

"Twelve fifty three. He was expecting you fifty three minutes ago."

"Shit," Adam muttered, picking up the pace and hopping up the stairs two at a time.

Harry shook his head – his Section Chief had been a little lost recently.

The sudden realisation that this would be Adam's first Christmas without Fiona made Harry wince.

Then again, perhaps a good watch would encourage some better time keeping in the future. All assets would get met promptly, and this Secret Santa trauma would finally be over.

Harry made a mental note to finally expel HR from his annual Christmas card list. Secret Santa would _not_ be happening in his section next year, as long as he was still breathing.

...

The stress of Secret Santa was now over. It was the 20th, the day of present giving. All gifts were left in Harry's office anonymously with simply with the recipient's name.

"Everyone, collect your present," instructed Adam.

"This is marvellous," said Malcolm, admiring the handy box.

"What a gorgeous scarf!" exclaimed Jo, glancing slightly at Ruth with a grin.

"These shoes are lovely," complimented Ros, shooting a smile at Jo.

"Chocolates!" yelled Zaf, punching the air triumphantly with a cheeky wink to Ros.

"Good quality whiskey," Harry said in Zaf's direction. Adam soon realised that the presents weren't as anonymous as they should have been.

"You all know who they're from?" he said, exasperated.

"Yes," admitted Ruth. "Thank you, Malcolm, by the way. The earrings are lovely."

Adam rolled his eyes, unwrapping his gift which he knew to be from Harry. A smile spread across his face.

"This is fantastic," said Adam, taking the watch from the box and buckling it around his wrist. "Thanks, Harry."

"Pleasure. Maybe you can start meeting your assets on time now," Harry suggested drily.

Adam grinned sheepishly. "Right, you lot. Seeing as the festive season is upon us, perhaps I can forgive the lack of secrecy in this present-giving, commercialism-fuelled nightmare, but I hope you all understand its importance in an operational context," he lectured jokingly.

"What was that mate?" said Zaf through a mouthful of chocolate.

Adam could only roll his eyes.

...

**A/N: I am now in something of a quandary as this appears to be a logical place to end the story. However, I have written a few extra chapters involving Adam's Christmas party and Christmas itself and so it's basically up to you whether I should post a bit extra or leave it how it is. Once again, thank you very much for reading and/or reviewing! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

The 21st of December had arrived, and the Christmas party at Adam's was in full swing. His flat was spacious and comfortable; however, he had been sure to carefully pack away anything precious. Zaf had a tendency to get aggressive during party games.

"It's my turn to stick the tail on the reindeer!" Zaf yelled, adjusting his Santa hat that seemed to be permanently attached to his head with one hand whilst clasping a beer in the other.

"I haven't had a go yet," whined Jo, pushing him out of the way.

"Kids!" Harry exclaimed. Ruth could only smile at the antics of her colleagues. She had a penchant for a glass of champagne now and again, but it seemed Adam had only provided vodka, beer, whiskey, rum ... well, every form of alcohol that she found rather repulsive. Ruth sipped her orange juice patiently and watched the drama unfold.

Ros had collapsed in a heap on the sofa with a rum and coke that seemed to be lacking coke entirely. She sniffed the glass warily before downing it anyway. Ros hadn't had too many to drink tonight, instead more eager to pass amused judgement on others. She glanced over at Adam, who was laughing properly, and couldn't help but feel content.

Jo was obviously giggly and having a good time, but again she was still fairly level headed. When she wasn't challenging Adam to an arm wrestle or singing karaoke with a very embarrassed Ruth, she was peering at Zaf.

Zaf was completely unaware of this - tonight he regarded himself as a committed social drinker. The party was fun, and he felt that drinking several bottles of beer would simply add to the experience.

Malcolm wasn't used to a party atmosphere but he felt very welcome; partly because Zaf kept trying to hug him, but also because it was friendly and easy. It made him ponder that life didn't have to always be so complex – just friends together celebrating was something he was able to see he was actually rather content with. He drank a single glass of whiskey with Harry and steered clear of the karaoke machine.

Harry, despite his sometimes grumpy nature, was fairly relaxed and amused by the party. He was a little tempted to give the karaoke a try, and was very happy with having a casual celebration. It was more in his comfort zone than a posh dinner with dull conversation and fake smiles with people towards whom he had no liking. Harry had a soft spot for his colleagues, really, even when they were drunk and pestering him to play Twister.

Adam felt a genuine grin upon his face. He'd give his life for his colleagues in a second, and yet tonight he could forget about the serious side and instead treasure the good times with these idiots who he truly appreciated.

...

It was ten minutes until midnight, and Zaf's sneaky, alcohol-addled mind was plotting away. He clambered off the floor and headed towards Ruth.

"Ruth, who are you kissing under the mistletoe?" he whispered, attempting to be discreet.

"What are you talking about Zaf?" she asked, concentrating on studying the carpet.

He leant closer, cupping a hand around his mouth and hissing in her ear. "Kiss Harry!"

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, more sad than angry. Zaf stuck out his bottom lip.

"Please," he groaned. "You know you want to really."

"I'll think about it," said Ruth honestly. Zaf gave her a thumbs up and strolled over to Harry.

"Hello boss. Who are you kissing at midnight?" Zaf asked brightly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a New Year tradition, Mr Younis?"

Zaf shook his head. "No, it's Christmas Year, under the mistletoe when it's midnight."

"Right," said Harry, thoroughly amused. "And, no-one, to my knowledge." Zaf pointed at Ruth as subtly as he could and winked.

"You're out of control even without the alcohol, Zafar," Harry smiled, but he didn't say no. He rejoined Ruth at the breakfast bar, Zaf watching on with glee.

...

"Malcolm." Ros nodded as he plopped down beside her on the sofa. "Enjoying the party?"

"Oh yes, it is rather enjoyable," Malcolm said. "I must say it's a little later than I care to stay up, but I've decided to live a little more wildly." Ros couldn't help but smile.

"Glad you're having a good time," she said. He looked over at her.

"Aren't you?" he asked in a concerned manner.

"Of course," she smiled coolly.

"Rosalind," Malcolm tutted. "I know you well enough to know that that was a lie."

Ros sighed. "I do enjoy this sort of thing, secretly. And if you tell anyone I said that, Malcolm, I'll make sure no-one finds your body."

Malcolm chuckled. "That sounds more like the Ros I know."

"But when I go back to my house, I'll just be by myself again," she continued, but instantly regretted saying too much. "Sounds bloody pathetic, but..." For once, Ros was a little apprehensive.

"It sounds like you're a little lonely," said Malcolm. "One of the downsides to this profession. But I think maybe Adam feels the same way." He patted her knee and rose from the sofa. Ros smiled, thankful for the talk. Malcolm was a great guy who truly cared about people, and it wasn't often she'd admit to something as complimentary as that.

...

"Adam..." said Jo.

"Jooooooooo..." He dragged out her name and met her eyes.

"I... think I want to kiss Zaf under the mistletoe," she said carefully.

Adam slapped a hand on the breakfast bar. "I knew it! Ros owes me a tenner," he grinned.

"You were betting on us?!" Jo slapped Adam on the arm and stuck out her bottom lip. He held up his hands in defence.

"Well, maybe if you two had spent more time working and less time flirting we wouldn't have had to. Paperwork days get deadly dull," Adam informed her.

"Wait, Ros was involved in this? I thought she would run a mile at the sight of fun," Jo pondered.

"She's not the Wicked Witch of the West, Jo," Adam said defensively. Jo wondered if she'd hit a nerve and promptly changed the topic. "I think it's Harry and Ruth you should be betting on. Where are they?"

"Kitchen. Chatting to your new love-"

"Adam," she groaned. "What should I do? What if he doesn't want to..."  
>"Jo," said Adam simply, laying a hand on her shoulder. "He would, and not just because he seems to flirt with anything that has a pulse. He likes you." Adam playfully ruffled her hair and walked into the lounge.<p>

...

Zaf was hovering near the clump of mistletoe above the doorframe, waiting avidly for Harry and Ruth to approach.

"Hey Zaf." Jo joined him.

"Hey, my favourite girl," he said with a smile. Jo looked at his face carefully and let herself believe that Adam might be right. Sure, he was flirtatious, but he seemed like he cared about her. Jo decided to risk it.

Zaf knew he was into Jo, even with the alcohol washing around his body. But he wasn't ready when she pulled his face to hers and locked their lips. She broke away, looking doubtful, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"You kissed me?" he cried, grinning.

"I know, it's-"Jo started to apologise, but Zaf had his hands behind her head and pulled her back. He had waited for this moment for too long.

"Woohoo!" Adam whistled across the room. Harry chuckled before turning to Ruth, planting a gentle kiss. Adam continued to egg them on. Ros glanced over and smiled, wishing she could pull her feet from the sofa and join him: and that maybe he would realise how she felt.

"Merry Christmas all," boomed Malcolm. "Now, I think it's about time I returned home. The crossword won't complete itself." He found his coat and headed for the door, but not before Zaf found him and insisted on a goodbye hug.

"Actually, I think it's about time I headed off too," said Harry. "Whilst you three will be nursing hangovers-"he gestured to Adam, Zaf and Jo-"some of us have to have a 9am meeting with the Secretary of State."

"If that isn't festive joy I don't know what is," heckled Adam.

Harry smiled. "Drink lots of coffee," he advised, downing the last drop of his whiskey and guiding Ruth out of the door.

...


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter follows on directly from the previous one...  
><strong> 

"Do you think we should tidy up?" asked Ros.

"That is a good idea," said Adam loudly. "Such a good idea; you're so clever, Ros!" Adam leapt to his feet and started collecting some crisp packets.

"Not my crisps," Zaf growled, collecting as many packets as he could find and clutching them to his chest.

"I'll help." Jo raced round the room collecting glasses and bottles, and with a tentative sniff she deduced that most of them had contained alcohol.

Ros knelt down and started folding up the Twister mat, brushing away cake crumbs. "Can you help me, Zaf?"

Zaf shook his head petulantly. He was sitting cross-legged on the carpet surrounded by a stash of food ranging from an impressive array of crisps to half eaten mince pies. Ros recalled him sneaking around and stealing every pie he had found.

"How many have you had to drink, mate?" Adam called.

Zaf counted on his fingers. "I ran out of fingers," he said simply, opening a packet of crisps, trying one, and then abandoning them on the floor.

"Coffee, coffee, coffee," Adam murmured.

"I'll give you a hand." Ros directed Adam's hands away from the boiling kettle and poured out the water carefully. She was pretty much sober and now had the duty to protect her three colleagues who were quite the opposite.

"Do you want sugar?" she called.

"None for me," said Jo. Adam shook his head.

"Zaf?" she called, a little louder.

"Four please," he replied. Ros knew this would be a bad idea and stirred only one into his mug.

"Coffee first, clearing up later," she instructed, placing four mugs on the coffee table, arranging them around some empty glasses and nut dishes. She collapsed onto the sofa, Adam following suit beside her. Jo sat down near Zaf: he moved the mince pies closer to him as she did so.

"So, what are everyone's Christmas plans?" asked Adam cheerfully.

"Going to my mum's," said Jo.

"Family dinner," chipped in Zaf.

"Sitting in a bar all day," said Ros honestly.

"Aw, come on, you can have dinner at mine!" cried Adam.

"No, really-

"No, I insist. You are coming to my house for dinner. Have you been before? It's lovely, my house."

"Adam, we're in your house," she reminded him.

He laughed. "Oh yeah!"

Ros shook her head in disbelief but wondered if he had been serious. Her family usually had an elaborate dinner and put on their best clothes and smiles, but after the scandal of her father's imprisonment it became clear that no such gathering would ever occur again. Christmas had been a prominent part of Ros' childhood and that glorious illusion had been shattered so suddenly that she'd never thought of what else to do during the festive season. Adam's offer was generous, and it would be nice to have some company.

"Ros, you owe me that tenner," Adam told her, interrupting her train of thoughts.

"What for?" asked Zaf.

"They bet that we'd kiss under the mistletoe," Jo told him.

"You were betting on us?!" Zaf retorted in disbelief.

"Zaf, the fact that you spend most hours of every day flirting with Jo was a bit of a clue," Ros told him, grabbing her purse and handing the tenner to a gleeful Adam.

"That is not true. Sometimes I'm doing work," Zaf pointed out sulkily.

"I bet you can't go for a whole day without flirting," Adam told his friend with a smirk.

"I bet you that tenner that I can," Zaf replied insistently.

"Done."

...

"This has been a good Christmas so far," said Jo, fiddling with her hair. After Ros had confiscated any remaining alcoholic drinks she could find and unplugged the CD player promptly after Adam and Jo suggested a dance-off, she made her colleagues (whom she mentally referred to as the troublesome trio) a second round of coffee and instructed them to sit down and talk sensibly. Her role felt very much like the one of a headmistress, apart from the fact that she had to deal with far worse behaviour.

"My mum always makes the best mince pies," Jo continued. "Can I have one by the way, Zaf?" She reached out to grab a pie. Zaf slapped her hand away and proceeded to stuff as many as he could in his mouth.

"He's like a child," Ros commented as Jo wrestled with him.

"Zaf, don't spit mince pie on my carpet!" Adam whined as Zaf choked out a mouthful of pastry, crawling across the floor to unfold the Twister mat.

"Zaf, I just folded that," protested Ros, getting up to discipline him. "Sit on the sofa and drink your coffee."

"You're not my boss," he replied.

"I am!" yelled Adam gleefully. "Sit on the sofa Zaf."

Zaf rolled his eyes and clambered onto the sofa next to Adam, sipping his coffee obediently and then pulling a face.

"Not enough sugar," he mumbled, pacing across the kitchen and dumping a whole tablespoon of it in his mug, with a steely glare from Ros. She rose from the sofa to intervene.

"Zaf, you'll be sick if you drink that." Ros tried to reason with him, prising the mug from his hands.

"I don't feel well," he admitted. "Can I go to bed?"

"This isn't your house," she said patiently.

"You're not my boss," he said. "Adam, I'm going to bed. Good night. Bye Jo. Night." He stumbled up the stairs, collecting his Santa hat from the lighting fixture as he did so.

"Shall I stop him?" asked Ros.

"Nah, he can crash here, it's cool," replied Adam.

"Jo, how are you getting home?" she asked, deciding it was time to wrap up this party.

"Taxi, although it's so expensive this time of year," Jo replied. "More people needing a lift after getting drunk. It's ridiculous." She pulled herself off the floor and tried to tidy up again, kicking off her shoes.

After about half an hour, most of the damage done had been cleared away, although someone had knocked a glass of something onto the carpet. Adam was on his knees trying to scrub it; Ros was picking up the shards from a broken glass; Jo was collecting the crisp crumbs that seemed to be everywhere.

"That looks a bit better," announced Ros. "Jo, time to go home."

"Aw, no, don't go, don't leave me!" cried Adam, diving for Ros' feet.

"You've still got Zaf," she reminded him.

"Yeah but he's no fun. He steals the TV remote," sulked Adam.

Ros knelt down beside him. "Go to bed. Drink coffee when you get up. You'll be wrecked otherwise."

"Okay," Adam sighed, walking up the stairs.

"I'll call you a taxi," Ros told Jo, reaching for her mobile phone.

"Ask him out," Jo said solemnly.

"I'm sorry?" replied Ros, feeling unfamiliar uncertainty at her friend's words.

"You and Adam. You both know it. Go on," she persisted.

"You're hammered, Jo, you're not thinking straight. Go home and sleep," instructed Ros, steering clear of the topic of Adam.

"Just... think about it, will you?" insisted Jo, pulling her coat around her shoulders and buttoning it up wrongly. Ros didn't point this out.

"See you soon," said Ros curtly but with a smile, shutting the door as quietly as possible. When she turned around Adam was standing there, looking confused.

"What's wrong?" Ros asked.

"Zaf's asleep in my bed," he told her.

They both burst out laughing.

...

Zaf moved slightly, opening his eyes a tiny bit and peering at his surroundings. It wasn't his flat, that was for sure. The whole room looked completely unfamiliar.

_Please don't say I've been hospitalised again,_ he thought. Then again, hospitals don't let you crash in your jeans and nothing else.

Zaf groaned, rolling out of the bed onto the floor, where he found a shirt that looked vaguely like his own. He became aware of a blinding pain blasting through his head as blurred memories of last night crept into his head. Twister, mince pies, drink... oh, the drink...

Zaf stumbled down some stairs, pulling on the shirt and rubbing his forehead. He became aware of someone else. His instincts kicked in as he reached for a candlestick as a weapon, pressed himself against the wall, rounded the corner and-

"Ah!" Zaf's warrior cry echoed through the empty kitchen. It appeared that there was no-one there.

"Ah!" cried another voice as Adam fell off his sofa onto the carpet. In daylight, the flat was still obviously in disarray. He picked himself up from the floor and dragged himself towards the tap, pouring a glass of water and tipping it down his throat, and then another.

"How much did I drink?" Adam's voice was hoarse.

"Less than I did," commented Zaf, blinking hard and gulping some cold coffee he found abandoned on the side, before spitting it into the sink.

"What kind of psycho puts a whole jar of sugar in their coffee?" he questioned, shaking his head.

Adam smirked. "That was you. A whole tablespoon, I seem to remember."

Zaf groaned. "I was drunk and hyper? Surprised I survived unscathed, except for this..." He held out his elbow which now had a nasty burn.

"Twister. You tripped over Harry's leg and got a carpet burn," Adam informed him.

"And mine," said a voice. Ros appeared from the dining room, carrying a mug of coffee.

"Did you stay the night?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Didn't mean to. I fell asleep."

"I'll... let myself out." Zaf pulled his coat around his shoulders.

"Take it easy," called Adam. "And Merry Christmas, mate."

Zaf grinned. "And to you both." He swept out of the flat, the door clunking behind him.

"I think I'd better be off too," said Ros efficiently.

"Ros," said Adam gently, reaching out to touch her face. There was obvious chemistry between the pair that Adam had tried desperately to ignore. He felt unfaithful and guilty to Fiona, but he knew exactly what she would have said: _'Don't spend your life thinking about me - I want only good things for you.'_

Adam leant down and kissed Ros gently, moving back to check her reaction. Ros was actually smiling, and leant back in-

"I forgot my Twister mat," Zaf announced, stopping as he saw the position of his two colleagues. He shifted silently across the room and gathered it into his arms, only raising an eyebrow as a way of response to what he had seen before darting back out of the door.

...


	7. Chapter 7

Christmas wasn't going to be as great as Jo expected.

Sure, when she woke up she couldn't help but grin at the sack of chocolate coins Zaf had left outside her door. But then the phone call came – her Mum had to be taken back into hospital overnight, so no family Christmas dinner. Jo slumped on the sofa with a cup of coffee and texted Ros.

Ros rolled over and cursed for not turning off her wretched mobile phone. She did, however, feel a twinge of remorse as she read the message. Jo's mum's illness was getting worse, and Ros couldn't help but feel sympathetic for her friend. Perhaps a phone call would comfort her a little.

"Hey, Jo. Merry Christmas and all that. I got your message; I was just calling to see if you're okay."

"Yeah, I'll be fine. How's your day been?"

"I'm still in bed, actually," replied Ros.

"Still recovering from the party?" joked Jo.

"No, but I reckon Zaf is. How is he?" Ros asked.

"Dunno. He's gone out..." Jo tried to disguise her disappointment.

"I'm sure he'll be back for the Doctor Who Christmas special," said Ros. Jo smiled – she was probably right about that.

"Have a good day, and thanks." Jo hung up the phone and looked at the clock. She would go and visit her Mum and check to see everything was okay.

After calling Jo, Ros decided she might as well get up, shower, dress and walk around outside. She had always liked cold weather; the way it chilled your skin and bit your face; the way the wind chased broken leaves furiously; the kiss of a snowflake on your cheek. Ros bundled up in a coat and clacked across the pavements to a secluded spot with straggly trees, sitting down on a bench.

She thought briefly of Adam's suggestion to come round for dinner. Sure, he was drunk at the time, but he had texted her the next day confirming that he had been sincere. Ros felt uneasy. She might just cancel, fake an excuse, go to a bar. She wanted to see him; secretly craving a distraction from the loneliness that had been digging its claws into her ever since leaving Six and her father behind. Then again, Ros knew she'd better get used to it sooner rather than later. She didn't do friends, anyway, and in this line of work that was probably for the best. Her rejection of the offer would also give Adam the opportunity to spend time with Wes. Yes, she was definitely doing the right thing. She pulled out her phone and texted Adam.

...

Adam had gathered Wes into a hug the minute he stepped through the door. He was spending Christmas with Fiona's parents, as Adam had explained that he didn't quite feel ready for the responsibility. As usual they had been so kind and understanding and Adam was going to spend the whole day with his son, including a lovely Christmas dinner. Unfortunately he had just received Ros' rebuff of his offer to join; apparently she had work to finish that couldn't wait. He tried to ignore the fact it saddened him a little that he wouldn't get to see her, instead focussing on the fact that he was so happy to be able to spend time with family.

Family. The word was one Adam felt he wouldn't really use again after Fiona had died, and yet he felt an indescribable happiness as he saw Wes' face light up.

"Has Santa been good to you?"

"He got me a train," said Wes.

"That's so cool!" said Adam, grinning. It made him so happy to see his son having fun and not thinking about his Mum.

"Santa has been wonderful this year," said Fiona's mum, Sandra, with a sly wink to Adam when Wes wasn't looking. "I'm so glad you could be here," she added. "No work to do?"

"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow," replied Adam, warmly shaking the hand of Fiona's father, Clive.

"Merry Christmas, son," he said, handing Adam a mug of steaming hot chocolate.

"Thanks," said Adam, feeling choked. Fiona's parents were close to him, but Clive had never referred to him as his son. Adam sipped the hot chocolate. Another perk – having a kid meant sugary treats.

Talking of sugar, Adam couldn't help but smirk from the memories of his party and the disgusted look on Zaf's face when he sobered up and drank some coffee with more sugar than should ever been consumed. He wondered how his friend's Christmas was going.

...

Zaf restarted his car, hit the accelerator, swore, scraped the windscreen wipers, shouted, slammed his hand on the dashboard, yanked the wheel, tried everything. But it was quickly becoming clear that his car wasn't going anywhere – so no family reunion.

The snow had compacted around his wheels and the doors were frozen shut. When had finally managed to get the bloody door open, the heating had packed in and the car insisted on staying put. He was parked a good ten minutes away from the flat, and the snow was now falling harder. Zaf got out of his car, tugging his scarf tighter around his neck and shoving his hands in his pockets. He had heard on the radio this morning that most public transport had been halted because of the extreme weather conditions, and now his own private transport wasn't playing. He headed back into the warmth of the flat and called his mother to give the bad news.

Jo was nowhere to be seen. He had sneaked out early after leaving her some chocolate coins to try and get his car started, ready for the trip to Croydon. Zaf never tired of driving in his pride and joy - the sleek Nissan Skyline he had saved for years to buy, and, to his surprise, had spent nearly an hour trying to revive.

Zaf decided to make pancakes – his personal, instant solution to feeling down. He had devoured two with maple syrup and one with lemon and sugar before Jo arrived back, and Zaf immediately noticed that something was wrong.

"What is it?" he asked, getting up from his seat to console her.

"My mum's been taken back to hospital," Jo told him. Zaf wrapped her in a hug - nothing else was needed in that moment. Well, apart from offering her some pancakes.

"No family Christmas dinner," said Jo, tucking into a pancake topped with ice-cream.

Zaf half-laughed. "Me neither. Car's not moving."

"That's such a shame," said Jo. "I guess you're stuck with me."  
>"Oh, it's a pleasure Miss Portman. Do you want your present now?" Zaf said.<p>

"I'll go and get yours too."

Jo felt a massive smile on her face when she opened the tiny box and saw the glimmer of two beautiful gold earrings, grabbing Zaf into another hug.

Zaf slipped on the jacket that Jo had bought him and strutted around the kitchen, making her laugh. The jacket was lovely; but not as lovely as the person who had given it to him.

"I think we shall have to opt for a pub roast dinner," commented Jo.

"Sounds good to me. Shall we see if anyone else is up for it?" asked Zaf. He reached for his phone and began to text.

...

Malcolm heard the harsh vibrate of his modern mobile phone on the mahogany counter and sighed. He liked technology and computers and software, but only at work. It seemed ridiculous to spend all of his life in front of a screen when they were books to be read at the weekend.

Colin had bullied him into buying a mobile phone years ago, saying it was ridiculous that a man whose entire life revolved around technology didn't own one. Malcolm didn't see the point, really – he saw his colleagues nearly every day and would visit his mother regularly. It seemed that texting was the cooler substitute for conversation nowadays, and he bet only a few even remembered what letter writing was.

So, Malcolm shunned the use of his mobile whenever possible, and Colin had always wound him up about it. He was usually a shy young man but had known Malcolm for enough time to allow his suppressed shred of deviousness to make an appearance now and again. He texted him some of those little irritating smiley face things, texted him spam about winning a holiday abroad, texted him when they were sitting next to each other, and every single time Malcolm would end up rolling his eyes with a smile.

Nowadays, Malcolm didn't pick up the mobile phone that he had been bought one Christmas because the texts wouldn't be from his friend anymore.

Then the bloody ringtone went off. Malcolm snatched the thing up and reluctantly pressed 'Accept'.

"Morning, Malcolm. Wishing you a very happy Christmas." Zaf's voice was chipper as usual and Malcolm smiled.

"And to you, Zaf."

"Jo and I were planning an impromptu pub roast Christmas dinner meet-up. Fancy it?"

"Most definitely." Malcolm didn't have to hesitate. He exploited the Thames House canteen at lunchtimes and was on first-name basis with every worker at the local fish and chip shop. He possessed many skills but cooking was not one of them, particularly an edible or enjoyable Christmas dinner.

"Great. I'll text you the address," replied Zaf.

"Thank you, Zaf, for thinking of me," Malcolm added, hearing the loneliness in his voice as he spoke those words but glad to have said them anyway. Friendship was something he had lacked in life, the loss particularly vicious now that Colin was no longer with them, and he was touched that even his younger, cooler colleagues seemed to appreciate him.

"Pleasure, Malcolm. See you later."

Malcolm ended the call and reached for the mug of piping hot tea beside him, optimistic that this Christmas might not be the lonely affair that he had anticipated after all.

...

Harry too was enjoying a Christmas cuppa, and accepted Zaf's offer of a pub roast. He had spent a lovely Christmas Eve dinner with Ruth and wondered if she too would be joining. It was funny, really, how they would be talking about matter of national security by day and by night be quarrelling good-naturedly about the best holiday destination. She loved the necklace that he had given to her, fastening it around her neck straight away and producing a marvellous bottle of Scotch for him with that shy smile of hers.

Harry's house wasn't very Christmassy, apart from a small fake tree in the corner that he put up habitually. He couldn't risk a real fir as his dog, Scarlet, would eat the pine needles and try to fight the shining baubles. Apart from the lack of Christmas spirit, his house was pleasantly arranged and comfortable. He had old sofas and rugs; bookshelves on every available wall space; wooden floors and marble kitchen counters. It was the place where Harry could leave the grumpy, overworked office man and potter around in the garden, read books, watch some telly.

Harry pulled on his slippers and opened a window, allowing a crisp chill to race through the air.

...

Ruth was tidying. She was an organised person, and Christmas Day seemed as good a day as any to sort and dust her books.

Her home phone trilled and she patted dust from her knees as she got to her feet, secretly hoping it might be Harry. He had taken her to dinner last night and it had been wonderful. It seemed silly, that it had taken them all of those years to finally overcome the obstacle of their awkwardness, stubbornness and innate British-ness in order to go out for dinner, and that when they managed to do so it had been simple and enjoyable.

Ruth was surprised, but still pleased, to hear Zaf's voice. He asked if she wanted to meet with the other for a pub roast dinner and she said yes a little hesitantly. Ruth was perfectly content with sitting at home, a steaming bowl of soup on her desk and a book in her lap. But she decided to try and be a bit more festive. Yes, dinner with friends she could manage.

...

By 7pm Wes was curled up asleep on the sofa. Adam patted his son's head and rose, reaching for his coat.

"I'd better be off," announced Adam, a little sadly. "Today was lovely – thank you for everything."

He headed back onto the street, pulling his phone out of his pocket and reading a text from Zaf. Adam had already eaten Christmas dinner, but he could join the others for a drink. He just had one more good deed to complete.

_Be there in twenty minutes. _Adam hit send and walked briskly to his next destination.

...

Ros irritably pushed aside some cushions and pulled herself up from the sofa to answer the doorbell. She had made a luxuriously warm bed on the sofa where she was contently drinking whiskey and watching mindless TV, and was pissed at having to leave it to answer the door for some bloody carol singers. She was, however, pleasantly surprised to see Adam.

"I thought you were with Wes all day?" she asked.

"He crashed on the sofa. He's only nine; he can't cope with late nights and whiskey like some people." Adam gestured to the empty glasses stacking up on Ros' table.

"Yeah well, it's my idea of Christmas spirit."

"How come you weren't going out with the others?" Adam asked.

_Because I didn't think you were going to be there_, she thought.

"I didn't really feel like it," she replied with as much coolness as she could muster.

"I'm heading down there now for a drink – please join," Adam persuaded.

Ros considered for a moment. She wondered if the atmosphere between them would be awkward after their brief kiss after the party but he seemed to be cool about it, and the fact that the others would be there too would help to alleviate potential embarrassment. Although, Zaf had walked in – he had probably told all to Jo by now. There seemed to be something more than flatmates between those two.

Adam was wearing that charming smile that he brought out for special occasions, and it coaxed Ros to agree. He smiled, slipping his hand into hers as they left her apartment.

...


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Bit of a shorter chapter, and also the penultimate one! I wanted to include conversations from different pairings than the norm in this one. Thanks as always to readers and reviewers :)**

Zaf, Jo, Malcolm, Harry and Ruth had all enjoyed a hearty roast. Zaf had eaten a mountain of food and was knackered, resting his head back on the chair, a coloured paper hat askew on his head. Next to him was Jo, polishing off the roast potatoes. Malcolm had ordered the ultimate dinner along with Harry and they had both made a mighty effort, Ruth watching on with equal parts horror and amazement. They now decided to vacate the table and move to the bar, where they were joined by Adam and Ros.

"No family dinner then, Zafar?" Harry asked his colleague.

"There was, but my car wouldn't move," Zaf told him.

"That's a shame," said Harry sincerely.

"The snow should have cleared by the New Year; I'll go and see them all then." Zaf smiled, sipping his beer. "What about you? You've got a daughter, right?"

"Yes. I haven't seen her for a while though," Harry mused over a Scotch. It had been years since he'd last seen Catherine, and as nice as it would be to see her again a happy family dinner with the Pearce's was unlikely to happen. Still, in the New Year Harry vowed to try and establish some form of contact with her again, however tenuous, and try to piece his family back together little by little.

"I must say it's so much easier to hold a conversation with you when you're sober," Harry commented.

Zaf laughed, a little sheepish. "The beers got the better of me on that occasion. I'll keep it down to two tonight." He finished his glass and ordered another.

...

Zaf turned to Ros. "Have you had a good day?"

Ros smirked. "Hasn't been bad."

Zaf raised an eyebrow. "What's up, Ros? Regretting turning down a smooch from me under the mistletoe back at Thames House?"

Ros raised her eyebrows. "Gosh, how did you know?"

Zaf laughed. "Seriously though, Rosalind," he scolded. "Be happy. Make yourself be happy."  
>"What, by drinking my weight in alcohol and sugary coffee?" Ros quipped.<p>

Zaf shrugged. "Works for me." He leant closer, whispering. "And talk to Adam. I haven't said anything, I promise."

Ros smiled gratefully. "Thanks Zaf. The sober you isn't that bad."

"Hey, I recall just being friendly and a bit hyper," said Zaf defensively.

"You hugged me nine times," Ros reminded him.

"Very friendly, then. I'm just that sort of guy." Zaf winked and sipped his beer.

"You know, I'd class a wink as flirty behaviour, Zaf," Ros drawled, "so you owe Adam that tenner."

Zaf rolled his eyes.

...

"Good Christmas, Malcolm?"

"Not bad. Strangely, I miss work. Routine." Malcolm mused over a single glass of white wine. Things had been... lonely, since Colin. Oddly desolate. A lone branch snapping silently in the ongoing gale.

Ros snorted. "You miss having to scrape up in the morning, crash on the sofa at night and get paid peanuts?"

Malcolm smiled a little. "I enjoy getting up early. I never 'crash' on the sofa. And the money doesn't matter. I'm comfortable enough, and luckier than many."

Ros thought about what he had said. The early morning thing seemed beyond ridiculous to her, and sleeping on the sofa had become something of a habit for her. But she knew, under the scorn and the sarcasm, that she did appreciate what she had.

...

"How has your day been, Jo?" asked Malcolm politely.

Jo downed the remnants of her glass in one and turned to him. "Not... perfect, but not bad either."

"Weren't you going to have dinner with your Mum?" Malcolm approached the topic hesitantly, aware of Jo's sensitive nature about her Mum's illness.

"Yeah, she had to go to hospital though. She's fine, though. I'm fine too," she added, smiling gently. "What about you?"

"Oh, yes, it's been rather nice. I went to a rather spectacular carol service last week. Had a good time belting out some festive songs with the tenors."

Jo smiled. "Sounds good, Malcolm."

...

"Have you been embracing the Christmas spirit, Ruth?"

"I spent all of yesterday baking mince pies," said Ruth. "There was a homeless shelter dinner today and I thought I'd pitch in."

"That's lovely of you," said Jo. "And what about Harry?"

"We went for dinner in the evening," confessed Ruth in a happy whisper.

"Good for you, Ruth," complimented Jo. She knew her friend felt uncomfortable sharing too much about her personal life, particularly when concerning Harry, but Jo was pleased that Ruth was getting the happiness she deserved.

...

"Did you have a good day, Adam?" asked Ruth.

Adam finished a gulp of lager. "Great, thanks. Saw Wes. Ate far too much." He laughed.

"And... are you and, Ros..." Ruth asked discreetly.

He shrugged. "Not sure yet. I mean, yeah, I think, it could..." Adam was bordering on shyness, but he trusted Ruth. "It could work, I think. I hope."

"Seems everyone is coupling up," Ruth commented.

"Well, you and Harry, me and Ros, potentially... who else?" Adam was curious.

"Have you not heard? Flatmates becoming more than flatmates?" Ruth hinted.

"Zaf and Jo?!" Adam cried.

"I think so," smiled Ruth. "Perhaps now something to tease Zaf about, rather than the pranks always being on us."

Adam laughed. "Good on them. Now Malcolm is the only single one."

"Well, I've heard rumours that he met a lovely lady at a carol service last week," spilled Ruth.

"Ruth, you dark horse!" Adam shook his head in disbelief and downed his lager. Christmas seemed to have been generous to all.

...


	9. Chapter 9

The Boxing Day blues had arrived, followed by the final days of the year that involved eating the last of the mince pies and hoovering up pine needles. There wasn't to be a New Year party, however, as a joint agreement concluded that most of everyone's alcohol supplies had been consumed at the Christmas Party, and also that another heavy helping of vodka would probably be best avoided.

"So, what's going on this year, Harry?" Adam had nipped into the office on the last day of the year to sort through some files.

"Who knows? Each new year manages to surprise me," muttered Harry.

"Statistics say that street crime has risen by 20% in the last decade," commented Adam.

"Bugger the statistics." Harry's offhand comment was amusing to Adam. He smirked, slapping some files on his desk, ready for the morning. The phone on his desk began to bleat.

"Adam Carter," he said efficiently, stepping back into character.

"Carter; rendezvous at the wine bar down the road at 21:00 hours."

"Nice try mate," said Adam. "Surprised you're not taking advantage of your last lie-in of the year."

"Yeah, well, work to do," said Zaf.

Adam snorted. "What work?"

"Flat is messy. And I spilt a glass of red on the carpet last night."

"Smooth."

"Shut up Carter – don't you have some people to boss around?"

"Nah, that's you, bright and early tomorrow."

"Arrogant bastard." Zaf hung up. Adam smiled and got back to stacking some papers.

...

Harry watched Adam through the glass of his office. He hoped that this year would be better for him. It obviously wouldn't be easy in this line of work, but perhaps a little less emotionally gruelling. Then again, no-one's time here was guaranteed. The harsh memories of losing an officer were still close to the surface after Fiona's death; Colin's death.

Harry was always silent at an officer's death. Strong and silent. He never let anyone know how much it killed him inside, saying goodbye to people who were honest and good and unbelievably brave. Harry had stared down the barrel of a gun, but had never seen a colleague get a fatal bullet. Had never held someone he loved as they died.

He didn't want to have something wonderful and see it torn apart.

Harry cleared his throat and tapped some keys, replying to his overdue emails.

...

Malcolm was also in work a day early. He had sat silently for over an hour, carefully checking all of the computers for glitches and trying to upgrade some of the firewalls. A new year, a new tonne of potential computer viruses to sidestep.

Malcolm picked up his mobile at the irritating sound of a text and a small smile lighted his face.

He had met Julie at a carol service. They had been for dinner several times. Malcolm was at last feeling some happiness after Colin had died; he had at last found someone worth picking up that wretched mobile phone for.

Malcolm texted back swiftly and waited for a reply.

...

Ros had planned to go in today, get back into the work routine, sort through a mound of paperwork that she had abandoned. But sometimes her plans didn't work out.

She sat on a single park bench at the edge of a grassy slope near her house. It was a nice day: clear sky and cold. Ros watched the sun helplessly try to claw through the clouds.

No-one understood her. It sounded so petulant, so selfish, which is why she never chose to talk about herself. But that didn't stop her thinking.

That was why she saw the prospect of the security services so appealing. No-one would know who you really were. You do something for the greater good. You make a difference, rather than sitting in an office and returning to a home cooked meal with your husband, three kids and Labrador.

Ros stamped her feet together to dislodge some of the cold and thought of Adam. So cool, so clever. But a little like her. He knew loss; he had felt it burn him up until it felt like there was nothing left. Ros understood this. There wasn't a day that went by when she didn't think about her father, ageing in prison, watching the world go by from a small chink of light in his cell.

Maybe this year she would try to be more open. Not a bloody new year's resolution, but a hope that just happened to be recognised at that time. She would try to be less dismissive with people she liked. Maybe she would go to a hockey match; try to relight some of the passion she held for the sport as a child. Perhaps she would go out to a bar with Jo sometime, to just talk about real life and not work. And sometime, hopefully, see Adam at dinner. Even the thought made her smile.

Ros rose from the bench and walked solidly away.

...

Ruth was dusting. Dusting made things brighter, cleaner, and generally made everything look better. Books, vases and shelves were all victims of Ruth's rigorous cleaning regime.

She took a break to have a cup of tea, watching a drizzle of rain stain the windows. Ruth wished that the weather would get brighter: it made her feel happier. When the wind tugged her hair she felt messy and disorganised. When the rain soaked her shoes she felt like she might slip and fall.

Ruth got back to work after ten glorious minutes of sitting down. She found an old photo album that her mother kept. There were pictures of beautiful little villages that Ruth's parents had visited over the years; mountains they had tackled; walks they had taken. Ruth flicked to the picture of their wedding day and felt herself smile.

Ruth put the album aside and thought about what she had done. She was, of course, proud of the work she had done. The books she had read. The languages she had learnt. But there was nothing worthy of photographing and keeping in a treasured album. No family to spoil on Christmas day. No friend to travel the world with. No husband to savour a marriage with.

A part of Ruth longed for a normal life, a companion. Someone intelligent. Someone whose conversation she enjoyed, but who also understood the need for quiet. Someone who was thoughtful, but not afraid to express their opinion. She sighed, realising who she had just described.

Ruth brushed some dust from the knees of her skirt and picked up the duster again.

...

Jo buried her head in a cushion and snuggled into the sofa, kicking off her slippers. This year had been good for her. Career-wise, it had been her most challenging. She often wondered what her life would be like if she had continued with journalism. Drinking wine with her old flatmate Kelly; talking about the future; struggling to pay rent; thinking of dreams that they'd never fulfil. But now, Jo felt like she had accomplished something. If she had stayed in journalism, she wouldn't be making such a difference.

And if she had stayed, she wouldn't have found an even better flatmate.

...

Zaf soaked some plates in a tub of hot water topped with bubbles. It was, unfortunately, his night to wash up. He didn't mind it, really. But everything had to be so ordered and careful. Bit like his job. He enjoyed sitting in his flat, no plans, just letting things crinkle out.

Working at Five was something that Zaf enjoyed thoroughly. The excitement, the adrenaline, the fact that he was helping his country. He was intrigued as to what his next challenge would be.

New Year's resolutions: Improve research skills and risk assessments in operational contexts. Stop eating so many Mars Bars. Have a great year.

Zaf glanced over at Jo.

*and let her know how much she means to me.

Zaf dried the plates, stacked them away carefully and crashed down onto the sofa.

...

"Have you got that file I was after?"

"Where's the list of known associates?"

"Yeah, it's on my desk."

"Dunno, Adam had it last."

"Ruth, can you check out this number for me?"

"What's the target's address?"

"Shall I inform CO19?"

"Harry, there's a call for you."

"Jo, can you send these files down to the archives?"

"We've found him – Ros, follow on foot."

"I've just had a phone call from the head of GCHQ, telling us to back off. Malcolm, continue to monitor."

"Five witnesses have been found to compile the case."

"Zaf, I need to you head down to the scene of the crime. Collect evidence."

"For goodness sake, where are the post-it notes?"

Thames House was back in full swing. The New Year promised to be a hectic one. And the team were back together, stronger than ever.

Malcolm tapped keys and plugged wires.

Ruth wrote hasty notes.

Jo shuffled files.

Ros pulled off her jacket and rolled up her sleeves.

Adam paced and collected data.

Zaf clicked his pen and spun round in his chair.

Harry watched his team ticking, and couldn't help but smile.

**A/N: Hope you had a wonderful Christmas and wishing you all the best for the New Year! :)**


End file.
